


A Lesson In Those Areas Not So Easily Left

by Artemaes_Jones



Category: Original Work
Genre: Long roads and no exit, Spooky, old world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23032063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemaes_Jones/pseuds/Artemaes_Jones
Summary: What exactly do those long roads lead to? The ones with weeds and nature reclaiming them? A look into something that Could Be- inspired by long roads and areas that never seem to end.
Kudos: 2
Collections: The Things Best Left Forgotten





	A Lesson In Those Areas Not So Easily Left

There is something they do not tell you about the roads untouched by man. About the very area that lurks within those uncivilized areas. They do not give warnings. They do not proceed entryways with signs that hang loosely from a pole- a simple ‘Do Not Trespass’ will not greet the person who decides to approach. No, in these areas there are no sounds, no difference between the _Area That Is_ and the _Area That is Not_ , and maybe that is why it catches those unaware. Maybe this is why those who simply want to pass through find themselves Unable.

It is not the areas fault, mind, it is not the wilderness that causes these problems, that rots a person’s soul until they are unable to move out of the _Area That Is_ , until their very reason for leaving is forgotten and they are left abandoned in a world so _Familiar_ but _Not Familiar_. Hold on, one might here as they pause, _Hold On_ and _Do Not_ move. Hold on and Wait. And if one obeys, because who could resist the _Order_ , because who could _Not Wait_. No one, they say, no one will ever resist those _Orders_. There exists not a being strong enough to leave the _Area That Is_.

Except, maybe, whispers through the night air, those small noises that conquer the silence. They say things, those who have almost crossed into the _Area That Is_ , respond, they tell them to not _Cross_ , to move back and stay away. That the area will have them, yes, when no one else will, but only if someone out there truly would have them. Only if a person was foolish enough to believe that _No One Could Care_ , when in fact, _One Could_. A being could, in essence, leave the _Area That Is_ if they truly had _No One_. 

The roads, the wilderness, the _Area_ do not _Care_ about the ideas and the feelings and the hope that sits itself further and further into one’s chest. They will strip a being of all that _They Are_ and make them all that _They Aren’t_. They will trap those who are careless within itself and never let go, never forgive, and will never _Leave_. Maybe, maybe in the old ages these areas would have forgiven, would have released those that deserve to, but they had long learned the nature of a _Released_ one. They have long learned of the dangers of humanity, that will seek revenge.

The scars, those long cemented marks left across the _Area That Is_ , those came from the _Released_ , the ones who were foolishly released and foolishly returned. As the burning scars settled themselves firmly within the _Area That Is_ , the ones soon discovered that forgiveness would not be given again. No warning, no sound, nothing that would tell them of the danger and wrath that they have incurred. Just a misplaced _One_ and _Another_ , over and over again, until only the idea creator stayed. The creator would find themselves trapped, locked within the very thing they used to scar the _Area That Is_. And the screaming that would be ripped from their chest, the one noise that had been _Heard_ , would echo for those who find themselves close to the center, and would never stop. There would be no _Release_ for this one, no peace, nothing, until the _Area That Is_ had wrought the pain that they deserved, well, that the _Area_ had decided they had deserved.

Years would pass, years that would grow and fade like light of the sun, and still the _Area That Is_ kept taking and taking and taking. It would not stop, would not warn, would not allow those who had come to see what had happened, who came to explore its scars, to ever _Leave_. There would not be a moment of time that could pass within, lost souls trapped to never find _Another_ , and no one would pass through this _Area_. 

There were warnings, of course, throughout the town, warnings that drifted in and out of childrens’ minds, that forbade those to travel near the _Area_. A danger so deep within the town and its neighbors that future feuds and wars could be halted within their place with just a hint of the whispers that lurked between the _Area_ _That Is_ and the _Area That Is Not_. Those who did not heed it, those that let the anger surface and surrender them to It quickly found themselves on the outer edge, on the space where the whispers were the loudest. No one, no animal that found itself on that edge ever came back the same, ever came back with the life-telling sparkle that echoed emotions and hope, instead they came back with haunting looks and fear. Nothing would ever be the same for them, a town example, where people would avoid those that had found themselves with that _Look_. They would never find redemption, never be able to seek out the thing that made them a piece of the _Area That Is Not_. They were cursed forever to bear a mark that the _Area_ had seen them, had taken that which it loves in return for allowing the being to even see it.

Maybe in the old way, where things were not so unforgivable, a person could have found themselves blessed with new knowledge, this was not so here. Here there would be nothing left of them, nothing left of the _One_ who trespassed so easily. The _Area_ would take instead, it would steal the knowledge and hope and _Life_ and leave a shell.

Be warned, then, that if one hears the whispers on the wind, if one hears the whispers of warning while traveling near a road _Unmarked_ before, that there will be _No Noticeable_ shift. No, instead, while hearing a small whisper, even just the hint of a noise that is _Not Familiar_ \- leave. Do not continue down the path, do not refuse to listen, for the _Area That Is_ will not let anything leave, it will not allow those who so foolishly come in exit. It has learned, and so too, must those who live near it.

So **_Learn_**.

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy! Inspired by the lovely podcast and setting- the Old Gods of Appalachia


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